


Snake Charmer

by MagnaVictoria (Meaninglessness)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Morality, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Parseltongue, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Voldemort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 06:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9223748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meaninglessness/pseuds/MagnaVictoria
Summary: Harry Potter supposedly disappeared when he was seven. Eight years later, Voldemort sends his Death Eaters to investigate a circus who has a child who can supposedly speak to snakes.In other words, a plotbunny that may or may not go in a random direction without warning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a plotbunny, and I've no idea what to do with it. I actually have zero idea where I'm going. Usually I have a vague plot planned out but this is literally just meh, whatever. I got this idea ages ago.

 

 

>   **King Cobras** are named ‘king’ for their tendency to **prey upon other snakes**. The second half of their name is ‘cobra’ despite not being a member of the _Naja_ (Cobra) genus. Instead, they are the **sole members of their own genus** , _Ophiophagus_. They are the **longest existing venomous snakes** , considered **very dangerous** and have a **fearsome reputation**. However, they tend to **avoid confrontation with humans** , though they are very **culturally significant** in the areas where they reside.

* * *

 First of January, 1988

The dank, dark, dusty insides of the Leaky Cauldron made for a very poetic description, but not a very appealing entrance to the Wizarding shopping district of the United Kingdom. Alliteration was great and all, but it didn’t change the fact that most people grimaced or cringed internally when first seeing the place. And so, it was with a sneer that Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the fireplace into the Leaky Cauldron, brushing imaginary dust from his pristine clothing. He hadn’t wanted to come here, but he had very little choice. He would much rather be at home celebrating the new year with his wife and son, but he had to meet with a contact here to obtain the information he wanted. His contact had threatened to withhold information if Lucius did not appear.

His contact had been irritatingly ambiguous in the owled letter Lucius had received, but had mentioned several times that it was extremely important and very amusing, much to Lucius’ irritation.

A sneer firmly on his face, Lucius swept past the numerous costumers and made his way into Diagon Alley.

People, people everywhere.

Lucius grimaced slightly. He felt like he would get mysophobia from all the mingling he had to with these plebeian, overly cheerful people. Relief and excitement and anticipation rang loud and proud throughout the shopping district. There were children laughing and cheer and glamour all around. Even though it had been six years since the incident, celebration was still abound in Wizarding Britain.

Lucius could not deny that he, too, felt a sense of joy from the happenings. Though he may be firmly supportive of the Dark, the Dark Lord had, somewhere along the way, lost sight of what was important.

Unpredictable and violent.

Obsessive and cruel.

Bloodthirsty and mad.

Lucius grimaced. He had not wanted to continue to serve such a leader. Not when he was in constant fear of his own sanity, his health and the safety of the people around him. Slytherins may not be the most caring or nice, but they were generally only cruel out of necessity. And when cruelty changed from potential to constant necessity, well, was it all that surprising that many of his compatriots had become what they had become?

Now, with the Dark Lord gone, he could breathe a sigh of relief. He hated the current regime, he hated the Light idiots and the foolishness that ran rampant across Wizarding Britain. He wanted change.

The emotions were infuriatingly conflicting, but relief won out, especially when he thought about Narcissa, pregnant with their heir and firstborn son, and Draco, his darling heir that had been born. Stability, that was all he could ask for in that moment; then, like a miracle, he had gotten it with the defeat of the Dark Lord and the power and status he held.

The Boy-Who-Lived.

Lucius had mixed feelings about that little brat. On one hand, Harry Potter had singlehandedly ensured the victory of the Light and destroyed everything they had worked for. On the other, Harry Potter was a halfblood child the same age as his son whom the Dark Lord had tried to kill without remorse. He also singlehandedly killed the Dark Lord.

He hated the child and felt indebted to him all at once, but also felt nauseated because _Harry Potter had been one years old_ , the _same age_ that Draco had been.

Elegant and expensive fabric swirled around him as he came to an abrupt stop in front of his destination.

At least his contact had the decency to choose a place like The Egoist.

The Egoist was known for being upscale, professional, accepting and beautiful. The dishes were exceptional and there was no annoying alliteration or hyphens in its name. They had wizard and witch waiters as opposed to the usual house elves in most upscale restaurants and the waiters were very professional. The best part was the privacy charms weaved into practically every surface of the place. Almost no place was better than this one to have a private conversation, especially for a powerful pureblood like him.

Of course, he would never be having these thoughts had he known that the place was run by two highly intelligent muggleborns. But, what Lucius and other purebloods don’t know can’t hurt them.

His contact was sitting at a table, ‘number 072, on the first floor’, the young, polite witch at the entrance told him after he had given him her name. So, Lucius stood at the bottom of the winding, revolving staircase and let it take him up from the ground floor to the first floor.

It was easy to locate his contact and Lucius didn’t bother containing his grimace of disgust when he saw the other.

His contact grinned back at him.

Shaggy unwashed black hair, rumpled and tattered muggle clothing, an atrocious sitting posture all made the other man stand out in the bright and posh restaurant. Lucius took a moment to at once admire and pity the waiters and waitresses who barely seemed fazed.

Lucius sat, knocking off steel-toed boots from the table with his cane. The other snarled at him, but Lucius was unmoved.

“Well, Cassius?” Lucius prompted, words clipped and curt. “What could possibly be so important that you would call me out, on today of all days?” He was annoyed, vexed, very much so, but that didn’t deter the curiosity in his voice. The last time Cassius Rhodes had requested to meet with Lucius like this had been during the war, when Lucius was still paying the shabby, feral man to bring information about the Light and political situations of other creatures.

Cassius grinned and, without preamble, spoke.

“You know the Boy-‘oo-Lived? ‘arry Potter? He’s gone.”

* * *

 

Tenth of January, 1988

The tension and change in attitude of the wizarding populace was nothing if not blatant.

There was something poetic in the way they spoke in hushed, gossiping whispers, and the way they cast the blame this way or that. Their celebrations had dissolved, not into fear, but anger, despite the fact that they didn’t care to know if anything was wrong before their symbol of protection had vanished. They were afraid and angry, but for their own safety and no one else’s. There was nothing wrong with that, of course, as all people needed self-preservation.

Harry Potter was missing. Everyone knew it and the papers proudly declared it so.

**_Boy-Who-Lived: Missing!_ **

“Missing! Harry Potter, _missing_!?” Cornelius Fudge spat, anxious and enraged. “You promised, Albus! He was safe, _safe_! How will this look now that the ministry has no idea where he is, or who’s he with, or if he’s even alive or not!?”

“Now, now, Cornelius,” Albus Dumbledore sat, infuriatingly solemn and calm, “He has been gone for a mere three days, we can still find him and ensure his safety.”

“Oh can we?” Fudge snapped back. “When even the Unspeakables cannot prove if he is alive or not? No tracking device is working, Albus!”

As amusing as it was to watch the two bicker over this incident, Lucius Malfoy couldn’t help but wonder how, exactly, this all got out. No one except him, Cassius, Fudge and Dumbledore should know about it. Yet it had somehow reached the papers. And now everyone knew.

That wasn’t much of a problem for Lucius, but it seemed to be causing problems between Dumbledore and Fudge. Perfect. Now, more power will go to Lucius.

But Dumbledore was saying something.

“We shall wait until his eleventh birthday. Then, the powerful magic of Hogwarts should, by all means, give us his location. For now, Cornelius, all we can do is crowd control. Send a statement to the media.”

* * *

Private Drive was a normal, suburban area with identical houses sitting in neat rows. Everything was so utterly normal that Albus actually felt quite unnerved. He frowned a little, feeling a sudden sense of guilt. He probably should've checked on Harry after leaving him here. Maybe it was his fault, as the one who delivered Harry to his only relatives, he should've checked. He should've checked in person, not just assign Abrella to help him keep an eye on Harry. If only Albus had checked, then perhaps Harry would be safe and happy instead of gone, with no one certain of how he was. The boy could be in danger and they wouldn't know because he had suddenly disappeared off the proverbal magical radar.

Albus sighed as he gazed at Number 4 Private Drive. He knew this had happened because of his own weakness and cowardice. His guilt weakened him and had him running from his problems, unable to face them. The situation with Gellert had been the same. He was afraid of facing the man, so he hadn't acted until things escalated. Likewise, his guilt over the deaths of two of his dear friends and former students had made him weak and he had neglected his duty as Harry's protector and guardian. Everyone insisted on treating him as something more than he was, as someone great and infallible, but that wasn't him. He knew it wasn't him and Gellert's defeat made that point echo sharply, reminding him that he was not perfect whenever he strayed, even minutely. However, it was precisely this acute knowledge that had allowed him to bow to his own faults once more. The thought that he was only human had given him comfort enough to become absorbed in grief and guilt.

Albus thought to the faith that Lily and James had put in him and hung his head in shame. It was his fault that Harry Potter was gone. He had failed them.

Another sorrowful sigh left his mouth before Albus straightened with determination. He would set things right, find and make sure that Harry was okay. He may have been a failure, but no more. He would rid himself of this cowardice and set things straight, even if it was the last thing he would do.

He quickly strode to the doors of Number 4 Private Drive and, after only a brief hesitation, knocked sharply. His expression was serious and solemn as the door opened. The woman, Petunia, paled as she saw him and his duller than usual, but still quite eccentric robes. She attempted to slam the door on him, much to Albus' consternation, but was thwarted by a quick hand movement.

Albus felt uncharacteristic irritation along with the wariness that was wholly expected from Petunia's reaction to his presence.

"Hello. May I come in?" he asked, a genial smile plastered onto his face. Concerned and vexed as he may be, he would play nice. He wouldn't let his emotions get the better of him.

Petunia looked around, worried and eyed him warily for a moment before practically pulling him inside. As soon as the door closed she rounded on him and opened her mouth say something. Then, her eyes were drawn to his wand and her mouth clicked shut, her throat moving as she swallowed thickly. "Wh-what do you want? What are you doing here?" she asked, pulling forth most of her composure.

Albus eyed her behind his twinkling eyes and smile. Her hostility was foreign and somewhat unexpected. He knew her from the letters she had written as a girl, fascinated and endeared to magic, begging to be let into Hogwarts. This woman was nothing like that girl that Albus had had sympathy for, but ultimately rejected. This woman was bitter and wasn't endeared to magic. Not like she had been. His heart sank as he observed her. She had changed. Albus had placed Harry here in the hopes that Petunia was still that little girl who's awe for magic and desparation had struck a cord in his heart. This woman was not her and Albus realized with growing horror that he had, in fact, placed Harry with someone who was a stranger to him. Someone he did not know at all.

He was a fool to have thought people didn't change.

"I merely wished to see Harry," Albus eventually intoned, his voice much more subdued than his greeting. He already knew Harry wouldn't be here, but hopefully the inhabbitants of the Dursley residence would have some idea where Harry had gone.

A strange series of expressions flittered over Petunia's face, too fast to discern. "He's not here," she said flatly, settling on a cold, unwelcome expression, "He hasn't been here since New Year's Eve. We have no idea where he's gone."

"... I see." Albus was a little taken aback by how cold her response was and realized that he was no longer welcome. He turned for the door and Petunia let him.

Before he left, however, Petunia spoke again. "If you..." Albus looked back as the woman hesitated. "I hope you find him and that he's... okay. But if you do... just... please don't make me care for him again." Then the door closed.

Albus had recognized that last expression. It was _longing_.

Petunia... He had left her with a reminder of something she had lost and something else she never had.

* * *

 

Thirty-First of December, 1987 Midnight

They had come to him one by one and kept him company, teaching him how to communicate in their language, and prompting him to learn as much as he could about them. He wasn't sure what drew them to him, but he was nonetheless glad for their presence and companionship. Not all of them stayed, but he formed a family with the ones that did. It was they who comforted him and celebrated with him. They had told him that they would care for him. They were cold and scaly, but always honest, and Harry was inclined to believe them. They had said they would hunt for him, keep him fed and comfortable. They adored him, whereas the family of humans that clothed and fed him and shrinked away, especially from his precious companions. So he often left the hard, warm nest the humans called home and spent time outside with his true family, only coming back inside when night fell and snakes were no longer enough to keep him warm. They were his only friends and he had to keep them hidden and safe from his terrible excuse of a family that would surely harm his snakes if they were seen.

Today he was out with his true family to celebrate New Years, being unwelcome in the human nest.

For some reason, humans had named the passing of the seasons 'years' and found it prudent to celebrate this arbitrary idea of a 'new year'. Harry didn't understand it much, since his true family had no care for such dull human sentiments, but a celebration was a celebration, so this was why he was here, in the park, with his snakes.

" _Happy New Year, everyone_ ," Harry hissed softly, trailing a finger over the scales of Ruby, a red diamondback rattle snake. He had insisted on names despite names also being an arbitrary human construct, as addressing a single snake had started to get confusing after his family reached three different members. The nice humans he only vaguely remembered had also given him a name: Harry, so he too felt obliged to give his snakes names. For some reason his not-family insisted on calling him by the term for a male human child...

The snakes hissed back his well wishes despite not actually understanding the point of such a celebration. Alabaster, an albino boa constrictor bred in captivity was the most enthusiatic of the bunch and happily wound itself around Harry's thin torso, while being scolded.

It felt peaceful, here, with his family curled around him in the empty park and Harry was tempted to spend the entire night just talking and watching as his family tried to make him laugh by performing amusing tricks. The peace, however, was disrupted by human life.

"Oh god," the whisper caused Harry to snap his head up and hiss a warning as an adult human hesitantly approached him. Dust, a young and impulsive black mamba, reared into a defensive position, alongside Jungle, an adolescent Reticular python. "Can you talk to them?" the man asked. Harry frowned, unused to the tone the man was using, but asking the two snakes to back down. They lowered their bodies obediently. "Amazing... You can!"

"They're my family," Harry stated with the hints of a hiss, eyes narrowed at the man and wondering why he wasn't terrified and running for his life. Most people who saw even one member of his family would flee the other way. This human was strange. "Why shouldn't I be able to talk to them? Who are you?"

The man ignored his questions, expression twisting into... worry. Harry recognized that emotion. "You... Are you all alone?"

"No, I have my family." Harry drawed out his answer slowly, frowning at the dismissal of his snakes.

"I-" The human hesitated, still wearing that worried look. "How about I strike a deal with you?"

* * *

 

Thirty-First of July, 1992

The year had gone by without hide or hair of Harry Potter. He was truly gone. This time last year, he had been rushing to the destination on the Hogwarts letter written out for the boy, only to find a circus in action and no Harry Potter in any of the houses in town. The next letter had come with a different location, as had the one after that. Then the location had moved to France a week later and the Wizarding World had given up, certain that the magic of Hogwarts had gone wrong.

Worse had happened though, as the Philosopher's stone had been stolen halfway through the year. Despite the defenses set up to prevent its theft, it was now long gone along with Professor Quirrel who had changed drastically over summer. He had been suspicious, but Albus had never guessed the man would have become a follower of Voldemort. Because that's who he was. Albus knew that Voldemort wasn't truly gone and had his suspicions about how the Dark Lord had managed, but he couldn't be certain. He had not, however, expected such a bold and successful move from the man-turned-monster. The only reason he had managed to get the stone out of the vault in time was because of the convenient prophecy Sybill had sprouted a mere day before the theft. He had not believed Tom to be strong or bold enough to infiltrate Hogwarts. Yet he had.

It seemed to Albus that his life was plagued with failure after failure recently.

He sighed tiredly as he sat in his office, As much as he might plaster a smile for the world to see, he was simply far too old and far too tired to continue on for much longer. However, so long as Tom stayed on his mad path of destruction, Albus would have to live on. It wasn't arrogance, simply a fact, that no one but him was strong enough to face the insane man. No one but him would willingly take on the role of Tom's nemisis, so the burden would have to fall to him. They could not rely on the prophecy that had been given all those years ago. Hell, it may have already been fullfilled with the events of that fateful night!

In a way, he was glad Harry was out of the reach of the Wizarding World. Albus knew his society. The people weren't exactly bad, but they were complacent, unwilling to move from their comfort zone. That's why there was stagnation and denial. That's why, had Harry been here, the burden of Tom's defeat would have fallen on his shoulders. Albus knew he was no saint, no matter how some people believed otherwise, and was old enough to know that he himself may have also become subject to this unfortunate condition of the Wizarding society.

Here and now, however, he had to focus on making no further mistakes. He refused to make another mistake. The cost was simply too great.

* * *

 

Tenth of July, 1994

"Presenting, the one and only, **Serpens**!"

The stage was engulfed in smoke as Serpens made an appearance, draped in a black cloak and riding on the now 7 meter long Jungle. The crowd gasped as he gracefully climbed off the back of the reticular python and bowed. Serpens hated these theatrics and the crowd, especially, but he did this as a payment of his debt. He was a circus act, and while he hated the attention it wasn't an a terrible job. He showed off his bond with his family and got awe for it. This situation was far better than anything he could've gotten from the Dursleys.

His performance was impeccable as ever as his snakes twisted and furled at his every command, Jungle lifting him up with ease and Dust jumping to curl around his shoulders. He detested the last part of his performances though, as he had to let some humans come up and pet his snakes. He rarely trusted humans, but this was the most popular part of his performance, for some reason. He always watched the volunteers carefully though.

He watched them so carefully that he didn't see the stunned and horrified wizards make their way away from the crowd.


End file.
